


Injury Prevention

by romanticalgirl



Series: OSHA Compliant [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then sometimes, if you work hard enough, you get it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Injury Prevention

Mickey manages to make it into work after another day for no other reason than staying in the apartment without Yevgeny’s toys is just as difficult as it was with them there. He focuses on work and he even goes out on Friday with several of the guys. It’s strange letting himself be part of them. It’s like letting go of a piece of himself that says he has to be separate, apart. That, because of his last name, he has to be better, work harder, do more than anyone else. 

Milkovich doesn’t mean what it used to now that Terry’s been gone for several years and since Mickey’s pretty much gone straight – and god, he hates the irony in that. 

Somehow he makes it through a month and then two. Friday nights are spent with people from his crew and from Ian’s mid-shift crew and Mickey actually gets pretty decent at bowling. And he has a sneaking suspicion that several of his co-workers now consider him a friend, or at least friendly. He blames Ian for that, because Ian always comes along and makes Mickey laugh. 

“It’s like insider trading, you know.” Mickey takes a sip of his beer and watches as one of Ian’s crew takes his turn. 

“What is?”

“You know me. Know how to make me laugh. It’s not fair.” He rubs his finger under his nose. “You’re using it to your advantage.”

“Insider laughing.”

“Fuck you.” Mickey does laugh, which proves his point. “You know Hirsh very well?”

Ian looks over at the guy Mickey mentioned and shrugs. “A little. Not a lot. Why?”

“He straight?”

Ian’s eyebrow goes up enough that Mickey can see it in his peripheral vision. “What?”

“Is he straight?” Mickey shrugs this time as Ian turns and looks at him. “What?”

“Are you _interested_ in him?”

Mickey feels himself flush and bites his lower lip. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my god.” Ian flat out laughs at Mickey, and it’s all Mickey can do not to punch him in the gut to shut him up. “Is he interested?”

Despite the laughter there’s something sharp in Ian’s tone. “He asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

“At work?”

Mickey takes another, bigger, sip of his beer. “He asked me at work, yeah.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure if he asked you for coffee, he’s gay. Or at least interested. Are you going to go to coffee with him?” Ian’s studying Hirsh, blatantly staring at him. “I bet he sucks in bed.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Ian turns his stare on Mickey. “You’re flipping me shit. You’re flipping me shit about _guys_.”

“So? Flipped you plenty of shit when we worked at the Kash and Grab.”

“ _Other_ guys.” Ian shakes his head and manages a smile. “You’re asking me for dating advice. You realize how ridiculous that is, right?”

“Because you’re my ex?”

“No. Well, yes.” Ian drinks down half his Coke, and Mickey can see the slight shake of his hands. He never intended to start this. He never intended to put Ian on the spot. He let himself forget for a second that Ian was anything more than just a friend. He’s not sure how. “But also because I’ve never successfully dated anyone. Not really.”

“We dated.”

“We did not.” Ian flat out laughs his ridiculous laugh, making several of their co-workers turn and look at them. “In fact, our one attempt at a date was...”

“That wouldn’t have been our first date, Ian. We’d been dating all along.” Mickey shrugs and finishes his beer, slipping off the stool and moving down to the rest of the guys so he can take his turn. He stays away from Ian after that, sitting down with the everyone else as they play through the rest of their games. After his next turn Ian sits down as well, settling well away from Mickey.

The strange tension doesn’t really change the evening and, by the time midnight rolls around and everything goes day-glo and all the teenagers show up, everyone’s ready to head home or out to the bars to find someone to go home with. Mickey cuts a glance toward Ian and smiles. Ian smiles back and shakes his head, rolling his eyes at the same time. Mickey flips him off. “You need a ride, Gallagher?”

“Nah. Kyle’s going to take me home.”

Something in the way Ian says it makes Mickey frown. He’s not sure what it is. A challenge? A dare? Or maybe Mickey’s just reading too much into it, and Ian’s just getting a ride home. Mickey shrugs and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, moving past the few stragglers to his car. He gets in and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat.

“Hey, Mick?”

Mickey starts and whips his head to the side to see Ian and his shit-eating grin. He rolls down the window so he can glare at him unimpeded. “What the fuck do you want?”

Ian glances over his shoulder then back at Mickey. He drops his voice and shakes his head just the slightest bit. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Mickey asks, completely lost.

“Don’t. Don’t get coffee with Hirsh. I know I don’t have the right to ask, and I know it’s none of my business, and if you want to do it, you totally should, because this is complete and utter bullshit. But...don’t, okay?”

“You realize you just contradicted yourself with every other sentence, right?”

“Yeah.” Ian laughs, looking young and lost and reminding Mickey of things he’s tried really hard to forget. “Yeah. I do. Just.” Ian darts a look from side to side then leans in quick, pressing a hard, fast kiss to Mickey’s mouth. “Sorry.”

Mickey watches Ian lope off, unable to do anything else. He’s not sure how long he sits there with his car idling before he shakes himself out of whatever trance he’s in and starts driving. He fully intends to go home, but instead he finds himself parking outside Ian’s apartment. He’d helped Ian look for one, but he hadn’t seen it since Ian had shown him pictures of the blank space on his phone. Still, he knew where it was and he knew how to get there.

And apparently whatever is churning inside him wants him to be there.

He gets out of the car and heads up the stairs. Ian lives on the top floor – and Mickey’s never been more grateful that their families don’t want them hanging around with each other, since it meant he didn’t have to help him move up all of those stairs – and Mickey jogs up three landings before slowing down. Ian got a ride home with someone else, which means someone else could be in Ian’s apartment. Even though Ian kissed him and told him not to go out with Hirsh, there is still a distinct possibility that Ian’s inside with someone else.

Telling himself that Ian isn’t like that doesn’t help because he knows that, off his meds, Ian is like that. Maybe on them. Mickey doesn’t really know much about how Ian is outside of the time they spend together. Which is why standing a few stairs down from Ian’s doorway is a bad, bad idea. Mickey is pretty certain that, at this point in his life, everything to do with Ian Gallagher is a bad idea.

Not that that’s ever stopped him.

He knocks and there’s no sound. He knocks again, waiting a few beats before turning around to leave. He’s on the second step down when the door opens. Mickey looks back and Ian’s standing there, brow furrowed. He’s dressed in his jeans from earlier, though they’re not fastened, and Mickey can see the hint of plaid boxers where the fly is falling open. Ian’s chest is bare and his hair is mussed. 

Mickey feels like he’s choking.

“Mickey?” Ian rakes his hand through his hair which just lets the porch light play over the movement of his muscles, shadow his chest and abs, glow against his bicep. “You okay?”

“No.” Mickey sighs. “Fuck. No.” He turns around and climbs the stairs, moving close so all he can taste is Ian’s breath. He doesn’t touch him, but he’s honestly not sure how he stops himself. His heart is beating in his ears and, like for so long, all he hears in the pounding of his blood is Ian’s name. “I’m over you.”

“Okay.” Ian nods. His face is serious. He’s not looking at Mickey like he doesn’t believe him, even though Mickey knows he has to know it’s a lie. “I was out of line.”

“I was so jealous.” Mickey swallows and he’s too close, but he’s forgotten how to move, how to step back. “All the time. Jealous of the guys who got to look at you and touch you and fuck you. Guys that got to be with you without being scared.”

“Mickey, I’m sor...”

“I’m not scared anymore.’

“I...what?”

Mickey exhales roughly. “I’m not scared about being me. About being gay. About wanting shit I never thought I could have. I’m not in prison. Odds were good that, by this time, I’d be in prison or dead. And I’m not. I’m not either of those things.”

“I know. I’m...”

Mickey laughs and places his hands on either side of Ian’s face, palms against his cheeks. “You saved my life, Ian. With everything. By being you and by...by wanting to be with me. By making me realize that maybe I wasn’t what everyone said I was. By seeing something no one else knew was there. If it weren’t for you, I’d _be_ in prison. Or dead. So...I guess what I’m trying to say is that...” He lets Ian go and walks a few steps away. He needs the distance between them. Needs Ian to see him. “I couldn’t even self-destruct. Because you made me realize that whatever I was, I was worth something. And I’ve been so mad and angry and hurt that I never told you that.”

“I didn’t do anything. Everything you are is what you were, Mick.” Ian’s watching him carefully, like he’s trying to sift through the conversation and figure out what Mickey’s really trying to say. Mickey imagines he looks similar, because there’s no rhyme or reason to what’s running through his head, out of his mouth. 

“I didn’t know I was those things. These things. I didn’t know anything good existed inside of me. My dad shit on us from day one. Nobody, until you, thought I was something wor-”

“Someone.”

Mickey frowns. “What?” 

“You’re not something. You’re someone. Someone worth saving.” Ian hugs himself, rubbing his upper arms with his hands. “You want to come inside? It’s cold as fuck out here.”

Mickey glances down to Ian’s bare feet and, even more than his half-naked body, that makes Mickey realize that Ian’s probably freezing. “Yeah. Sure. Yeah.”

He follows Ian inside and looks around while Ian goes into the kitchen. He starts a pot of coffee, and grabs a shirt off the washer and dryer unit in the open closet. Ian pulls it on and then grabs two cups out of a cabinet. He pours a little bit of sugar in one mug then leans back against the counter. “You saved me.” Mickey scoffs and Ian shakes his head. “You did. You stuck with me when it was rough. When I endangered your kid. When I endangered myself. You did everything you could. Everything you knew how to do. You learned new stuff to try to help me. And I pushed you away because the one thing in the world I didn’t want was to think I needed help.”

“Ian.”

“No. You listen now.” Mickey stops talking and just watches Ian look at the coffee maker as it starts perking, waiting until it’s done and he’s poured them both a cup before breaking the silence. He hands Mickey the cup with sugar and then boosts himself onto the counter, fingers curled over the edge. “I was the middle kid. Overlooked. I mean, everyone liked me and I helped out and I was the good kid. I had ambition. I wasn’t as responsible as Fiona or as smart as Lip. I wasn’t as intense as Debbie or as in need of serious supervision as Carl. I was there. But I took care of myself. I took care of the others when I could. But no one saw me. Until you saw me.”

“Other people saw you. Kash. Mandy.”

Ian shakes his head. “When I was with you I felt real. That, I don’t know. That doesn’t make sense, but that’s how it felt. You fought me every step of the way, but that made every move forward even better. Because I knew it was what you wanted then. What we wanted. And we were both strong. We were both self-sufficient. And then.” Ian sighs. “And then I wasn’t.”

Mickey chews his bottom lip for a moment then takes a sip of his coffee. “So you couldn’t stand on your own two feet, so that meant you couldn’t lean on me? You couldn’t let me carry the weight of it for a while? You pretty much single-handedly carried us to that point, Ian. Did you really think that I wasn’t strong enough to hold us both up?”

“I didn’t want to stand, Mickey.” Ian grabs his cup and stares down into it. “All I could see was a life of pill after pill after pill. And, to be honest, at that point going off the deep end and ending up dead seemed like a much better plan than that.”

“Well, that’s some pretty fucked up thinking.” Mickey smirks. “The fuck’s wrong with you? Were you crazy or something?”

Ian looks up quickly and sees Mickey’s hint of a smile. He flips him off. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Ian drinks some of his coffee and sets the cup down. “Is that what you came here to say?”

“No.”

Ian hops off the counter and frowns, obviously confused. “Then...I’m confused as to why you’re here. I’m sorry I said anything about going after Hirsh. Like I said, I knew I didn’t have the right. I thought...”

“Kiss me again.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again.”

Ian doesn’t move. “Mickey. We’re not...”

“Ian. I’m sober. I’m not emotionally fucked up...I mean, more so than normal. Would you please fucking kiss me?”

“If I kiss you, I’m going to think that it means...something.”

Mickey rolls his eyes and sets his coffee cup down, stalking over to Ian, grabbing his hips and jerking Ian hard against him. He holds Ian’s gaze, noticing that Ian’s chest is rising and falling just as rapidly as Mickey’s own. “Ian.” Mickey swallows, and he can’t remember the last time he said Ian’s name that way, that softly, that intensely. “Kiss me.”

“Oh god,” Ian moans as he drops his head so that he can find Mickey’s mouth with his own. It’s hot and sweet and familiar, but it’s also rough and exploring because they’re both someone different than they were the last time they did this. Mickey wraps one arm around Ian’s waist and his hand around the back of Ian’s neck and holds on. 

This is Ian. His Ian. 100% there with him, throwing caution to the winds, throwing everything he has into this moment. This kiss. Mickey can taste tears at the back of his throat along with the bittersweet taste of coming home. Everything is different than he remembers it, but he’s what’s changed. “Ian,” Mickey groans and bites Ian’s lower lip, sucking it into his mouth before pulling off and kissing him again. “God, Ian.” 

Ian wraps his arms around Mickey, hands cupping his ass and pulling him closer. It’s not close enough and Mickey wraps his leg around both of Ian’s. It’s moments like these when he hates their height difference, when he needs just a couple more inches so he can grind his cock against Ian while they’re standing up, so he can press him against something and let them slide together.

“Need you. Fuck, Mickey. Need you so fucking much.” Ian’s words are whispered and broken on Mickey’s mouth. “Please.”

“Yes. Fuck. Yes. Jesus.” Mickey pulls back with a shaky exhale. He looks straight at Ian and doesn’t look away. Doesn’t want to look away. “Yes.”

Ian swallows hard and grabs Mickey’s hand, leading him to the bedroom. It’s an organized mess, which is what Mickey expects from someone who’s shared a room with at least one sibling since the day he was born. He doesn’t really look around as Ian pulls him to the bed, wrapping him in another kiss as they stand beside the mattress. Ian’s hands are shaking as he threads them through Mickey’s hair, cradling his head as he slowly, deliberately fucks his tongue into Mickey’s mouth. 

Mickey settles a hand into the small of Ian’s back as he arches into him, his other splaying between Ian’s shoulder blades to keep him from pulling away. Ian doesn’t seem interested in going anywhere, busy tasting every surface of Mickey’s mouth. He licks at Mickey’s teeth and teases the roof of his mouth, rubbing and thrusting his tongue against Mickey’s.

Mickey’s hand fists in Ian’s shirt and he tugs at it, needing it off. Ian lifts his arms, but doesn’t stop kissing Mickey until the last moment, moaning as Mickey touches skin as the shirt drops to the floor. It’s like the first time, like every time. Mickey’s overwhelmed by Ian, how he feels about Ian, until the world disappears from around them, underneath him. 

“Want you. Need you.” Ian pulls Mickey’s shirt up and off then threads his hand back in Mickey’s hair, pulling his head to the side and scraping his teeth against Mickey’s throat. He sucks and bites and Mickey whimpers, holding Ian tighter. He slides his hands down to Ian’s jeans and slips them under the waistband, under his boxers, and pushes them down. Ian groans as his boxers catch on his dick, reaching down with one hand to tug them over it. 

Mickey’s fingers dig into Ian’s ass, nails biting sharply and Ian’s hips jerk forward. He gasps as his cock slides against the denim of Mickey’s jeans and he starts working at Mickey’s belt with one hand. His mouth keeps moving over Mickey’s neck, painting it with hot breath on wet skin, with scrapes of his teeth and the slide of his tongue. Mickey can feel the faint marks Ian leaves behind and this time he squeezes Ian’s ass.

“Trying to get your fucking pants off,” Ian bites Mickey’s throat. “Hard to do when you keep doing that.”

“I-” Mickey has to stop when Ian manages to get his belt undone and his fly open. “Fuck, I believe in you.”

Ian laughs and shoves Mickey’s pants down, grabbing his ass as they fall. “God, your ass. Jesus, Mick.”

Mickey slides his hands to Ian’s hips and turns them, pushing Ian back onto the bed. He kicks off his pants and shoes, stepping on his socks so they’re off too. He straddles Ian’s legs and looks down at him, breathing hard. “Like this?”

Ian nods. “Need to see you. Watch you.” 

There’s lube on the nightstand, so Mickey reaches over Ian to grab it, their cocks finally sliding together. They both moan and it takes actual effort for Mickey to sit back up and not just rut against Ian until they’re both a mess. Only the thought of Ian inside him - _oh god, inside him again_ \- has Mickey sitting up, rising up onto his knees.

He coats his fingers in lube, not caring when some drips between them and onto Ian. Mickey reaches back, arching forward and rubs his fingers against his hole. He’s worked up so he’s tight and clenched, but he pushes one finger in slowly, a rough groan spilling out as his mouth falls open. His cock flags, but Ian’s hand is right there, stroking it slowly, getting Mickey hard again.

Mickey doesn’t go as slow as he should, and his ass burns as he works two and then three fingers inside himself. He looks down at Ian and he feels like his whole body is burning. Ian’s staring at him with dark, hot eyes. His pupils are blown wide. “Ready. Christ.”

“Shit. Shit.” Ian reaches back and fumbles for a condom in his drawer, ripping it open and working it on. He barely has his hands out of the way before Mickey’s over him, lowering himself down. Ian’s mouth drops open soundlessly and his head falls back. His hands grab Mickey’s hip tightly and his whole body shudders. 

Mickey sits there for a moment, unable to breathe. Unable to do anything except feel the stretch of his body, Ian’s cock buried inside him. He pants roughly three times then sucks in a deep breath and raises up, sinking back down slowly. He can’t say anything at all, even though his mouth moves as if there are words and sounds that he needs to make. He moves again, still so fucking slow, his eyes closing as he adjusts. 

Licking his lips, Mickey looks down at Ian and plants his hands on Ian’s abdomen. He nods once and then starts moving in earnest, clenching his muscles as he rises up and relaxing as he sinks down. Ian’s not breathing so much as shuddering. His eyes are locked on Mickey’s as he thrusts up, meeting Mickey every time he sinks down. It feels so _right_ , so _perfect_ , like they’ve never stopped. Except now they’re both more experienced and in tune with their own bodies. 

Ian grips Mickey’s hip with one hand and wraps the other around Mickey’s cock. Mickey gasps and his body jerks. Ian moans as Mickey tightens around him and then his hand starts stroking, matching the steady rise and fall of Mickey’s body on Ian’s dick. Whatever whispered words they might have once said are gone in the wake of desperate breathing. They’re both lost in it, in each other. Mickey feels it, can see it in Ian’s eyes. 

Ian’s hips stutter and Mickey knows he’s close. He can feel his own orgasm building, growing, overtaking him. He tightens around Ian as he comes, and Ian falls over the edge with him, pushing up deep inside Mickey as he comes as well.

Mickey leans over with his hands still braced on Ian’s stomach. He’s practically heaving, desperate for air. He feels like there’s too little in the room, like they’ve used it all up breathing each other in. Ian’s eyes are closed, his mouth open and Mickey watches his throat move as he swallows. “Holy shit, we’re good at that.”

Mickey laughs and rises up on his knees, easing off of Ian and onto the bed. Ian takes off the condom then ties it off, tossing it in the trash can beside his bed. That apparently takes all the energy he has, because he collapses down next to Mickey. Mickey’s eyes are closed and he’s slowly getting his breathing back to normal. His head is pounding along with his heart and his whole body aches in all the best ways. 

They’re quiet for a long time, and Mickey wonders vaguely if Ian’s sleeping given that he’s close to drifting off himself.

“Mick?”

“Hm?”

“What’s this mean?”

“Dunno.” Mickey opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling. “What do you want it to mean?”

Ian shifts onto his side and looks at Mickey. Mickey doesn’t look back, but he can see Ian’s face out of the corner of his eye and feel the back of Ian’s hand stroke his forearm. “I think you know.”

Mickey swallows and closes his eyes. “I think I’ve earned the right to hear it.”

Ian makes a soft noise, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s quiet for a few moments longer then he leans in closer, kissing Mickey’s shoulder before breathing against his ear. “I want to be with you.” Mickey can’t help the shiver that goes through him. Can’t help the feeling the words send through him like a shock. “I want this to mean we’re trying again.” There’s another silence, this one weighted. “What do you want it to mean?”

Mickey turns his head and looks at Ian. “It means I’m scared to death, but you’ve never let that stop us before. And it usually turns out okay. So I’m going to trust you. Trust us.” He closes his eyes for a moment at Ian’s sharp intake of breath. “We’re not even close to where we were. But maybe we’re both ready to get there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now can I go the fuck to sleep? Unlike certain mid-shift people, I’ve been up since 4am.” He yawns for good measure. 

“You’re not going to leave?”

Mickey closes his eyes again and yawns one more time. “Went to juvie a couple times, but I haven’t left you yet.”

**

It’s weird. 

Mickey thinks that’s the best way to describe it. Unlike the Kash and Grab, he and Ian behave like responsible people at work. They even manage to keep their conversations G-rated. Well, PG. Maybe PG-13. No one’s ripping someone’s heart out of their chest – so far – but there are too many slurs, insults, and cuss words to be anything less. 

After work is a different story. They still go out with the guys and pretend that nothing’s going on with them other than the same level of flirting as before. Mickey hadn’t really been aware they’d been flirting, but apparently flirting is like breathing for him when it comes to Ian. But Mickey usually ends up at Ian’s apartment and they both end up hot, sweaty, sticky, and too tired to get out of bed for a desperately needed shower.

Ian’s on the bed beside him on his stomach and propped up on his elbows. Mickey’s got his head tilted so Ian’s blocking the light. “I have to get up earlier than you, asshole.”

“How come we never go to your place?”

“Single bed. And don’t say that we don’t take up much room when you’re on top of me unless your octopus-ass intends on sleeping on the trundle,. You alone take up a fucking queen-size bed.” Mickey opens one eye and catches a look flickering across Ian’s face. Mickey sighs and sits up, tucking the pillow behind his back as he leans on the headboard. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t pull that shit, man.” Mickey reaches over and ruffles Ian’s hair. “C’mon. Tell me.”

“Your apartment is part of your life. And you don’t let me in there. Like it’s separate.” Ian shrugs and keeps his eyes on his hands. “I know you said before it was because...”

“Don’t.” Mickey snaps, feeling frozen. “You’ve been there. It’s nothing to write home about. Hell, I’m surprised Svetlana hasn’t had her friend kick me out yet. Guess my money’s as good as anyone’s.” He gets out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He’s walked around naked in front of Ian plenty of times, but this is the first time he’s _felt_ naked. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a water, drinking most of it down in a few gulps.

Ian comes into the room and leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. It’s relaxed though, and not defensive, so Mickey can breathe. He screws the cap back on the water and tosses it to Ian. His reflexes are still good, and he catches it easily. 

“I don’t like it there anymore. It’s empty.”

“Mick...”

Mickey shrugs. “It is what it is.”

Ian frowns, his brow furrowing. “Get dressed.”

“What?” Mickey glances at the clock. “I have to get up in five hours.”

“Dressed,” Ian calls back over his shoulder. “Don’t make me do it for you.”

“You only know how to undress me.” Mickey follows him into the bedroom, gathering up the clothes he’d discarded earlier. “Why are we getting dressed when there’s a perfectly good rumpled bed right there?”

Ian looks over at Mickey and Mickey sighs. There’s a sharp, hard look in Ian’s eyes that says there’s no point in arguing. Mickey tugs on his jeans then sits down to put on his shoes and socks. “I don’t want to go over there, Ian. I mean it.”

“We’re not.” Ian tugs on his shirt and meets Mickey’s gaze. “I promise.”

“Then what the fuck is this all about?” Ian shoves his feet into his tennis shoes and walks to the door, grabbing the keys to Mickey’s car. “Hey!”

“It’s either I drive or we walk, and if we walk, you’re never going to get any sleep at all.” 

Mickey growls as he follows Ian out to the car. Ian’s trying not to smile and Mickey narrows his eyes. “Fuck you, I’m not pouting.”

“How did you know I was going to say you were?”

“Because you’re an asshole.” Mickey slumps back in the seat. “And I hate you a lot.”

“Liar.” Ian reaches over and slides his hand along Mickey’s thigh. “You can’t get enough of me.”

“Yeah, well. Just because you’ve got an amazing cock doesn’t mean I like you.” He gives Ian a dirty look when he starts to laugh. “What?”

“Amazing, huh? I like that.”

Mickey flips him off and crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to look at Ian at all. He stares out the passenger window until the scenery grows far too familiar, until he sees The Alibi across the street. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

Ian parks the car and turns in his seat. “He’s your son. I don’t care who got her pregnant. He’s your son and you miss him. And I’m a selfish asshole, but I’m not going to be the reason she takes him from you. So you’re going to go in there and-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey’s hand clenches into a fist.”You fucking break up with me again, Gallagher, I’m going to beat you to a bloody fucking pulp. Every time you try to do something for my own good, you fucking destroy me. Jesus.” Mickey gets out of the car, slamming the door hard. It’s stupid – it’s _his_ car – but he can’t be around Ian, can’t hear that sound in his voice. Can’t hear the words that he knows Ian’s going to say. 

“Mickey.”

Mickey whirls around. “Fuck you. Fuck you, Ian. Jesus. Why? Is this some fucking game to you? Am _I_ some fucking game to you? Jesus.” Mickey scrubs his eyes with the balls of his hands then tilts his head back and laughs, the sound broken even to his own ears. “I wasn’t happy but at least I wasn’t fucking miserable any more. God _damn_ it.”

“Mickey!” Ian steps forward as Mickey takes a swing at him and catches Mickey’s fist in the palm of his hand. “You’re going to go in there and work out an arrangement. Hell, I’ll sit there in The Alibi under her fucking eagle eyes while you’re with him if that’s what it takes. Because, even though we’re happy, you’re miserable without him in your life, and I don’t want that. I don’t want you to be miserable because of me.”

“And what if she says no?”

Ian shrugs. “You’ll have to knock up another hooker.”

Mickey’s eyes go wide. “I...what the fuck did you just say?”

“If nothing else, I bet Svetlana could recommend someone.” Ian bites back a grin. “I mean, I’d make the sacrifice, but you’re better at it than I am. More practice.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Mickey steps closer, but Ian turns his hand, twisting Mickey’s arm behind him and bringing their bodies flush. 

“Nah. You like me too much.” He kisses Mickey, slow and warm. “And stop jumping to the conclusion that I’m leaving you. I’m not going anywhere. Understood?”

Mickey nods, not sure he believes him, but wanting to. Desperately. “Yeah.”

“Come on.” He shifts his grip and laces his fingers with Mickey’s, leading the way across the street. The Alibi is filled with regulars even thought it’s almost eleven on a Wednesday night. Mickey’s not actually surprised, but he’s forgotten what it’s like to be this. 

Svetlana looks up as they walk in the door and her eyes narrow. She comes out from around the bar and stalks toward them, pointing behind them. “You go.”

“No.” Ian shakes his head. Svetlana lifts her hand to slap him, but he catches it as easily as he’d caught Mickey’s fist. He uses the grip to walk her backwards and force her down into a chair. The rest of the people abandon the table, given them ample room for whatever might happen. Ian squats down in front of her. “Stop punishing him for what I did.”

“He takes it up the ass. He’s doing it.”

“I’m sorry I took Yevgeny.” Ian’s looking at her and Svetlana doesn’t look away. Mickey sees the glint in her eyes though. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. And I didn’t let him get hurt. I know I scared you. I know you hate me, but...but Mickey didn’t do that.”

Svetlana slaps Ian with her free hand. Ian closes his eyes as the force of it turns his head to the side. “He brought your crazy into our house.”

“His house.” Ian turns back to look at her. “And at least I was actually invited.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Hey. Hey. Enough with the pissing contest, okay? Look, Svetlana, I know that I’m not his dad, okay? I get that. But he’s my son. And I miss him. So...so I want to work something out, okay? If you want me to promise Ian won’t be there when he is, I’ll promise. If you want him to call in every hour, we can do that. I just want to see him.”

“Papa?”

The voice hits him with a physical force and Mickey nearly falls to his knees. Instead he manages to sink down somewhat gracefully before being bowled over by Yevgeny. Mickey wraps his arms around him and buries his head in the sweet, baby-powder smell of his neck. “Hey, monkey.” His voice breaks and Yevgeny’s arms are tight enough around his throat that it’s hard to breathe. 

“Papa.” Yevgeny’s voice hitches and Mickey can feel the heat of tears on his neck. He closes his eyes and he doesn’t care if people are looking at him, if they’re watching. He didn’t care when he came out in the middle of this bar, and he doesn’t care now. “I missed you, Papa. So much.”

Mickey strokes the back of Yevgeny’s head. “Missed you too. I’ve missed you too.”

After a few moments the noise of the bar seems to come back and Mickey eases Yevgeny away from him. Yevgeny’s face is a flushed mess of tears and his nose is running. Mickey imagines he doesn’t look much better. “How is Capone, Papa?”

“He misses you a lot too, but we’ve been keeping each other company. He watches all the cartoons and eats all the Spaghetti-Os.”

“Papa!” Yevgeny laughs. “Capone doesn’t _like_ Pasketti-Os. He only likes mac’roni and cheese.”

“Oh. Right.” Mickey hits his forehead with the palm of his hand. “No wonder he’s been so hungry. What do you think he’s been doing with all the Spaghetti-Os?”

Yevgeny giggles and leans in, whispering in Mickey’s ear that he’s probably put them in the toilet. Mickey laughs then has to wipe his eye with his fingers. “Yevgeny, is bed time.” Svetlana’s voice is soft and she shakes her head when Yevgeny turns around to protest. “Let Mama talk to Papa, yes?”

Yevgeny looks at her for a long moment then nods. He turns back to Mickey and hugs him again like he doesn’t ever want to let go. He presses a kiss on Mickey’s cheek and steps back, tears still welling in his eyes. “I love you, Papa.”

“Love you too. Sweet dreams.” Mickey watches him hurry back to the stairs up to the apartment. He gets to his feet and looks at Svetlana. “Tell me what I have to do.”

She walks behind the bar and pours a shot of whiskey for Mickey and one for herself, blatantly ignoring Ian. “You are with him?” She jerks her head toward Ian. “Together like before.”

“We’re not living together. Ian’s on his meds. But, yeah. We’re seeing each other.”

She downs her shot and exhales. “Anything happens to Yevgeny I will kill him. I will make you watch. And then I will kill you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.” Mickey doesn’t look away until she does. Licking his lips, he drinks the shot down and exhales. “He’s my kid.”

“He whines like you when he does not get his way. All I hear for months is ‘papa, papa, papa’. Like a broken record.”

Mickey fights a smile. “I miss him too.”

“Bah.” She shakes her head. “We start slow. One night. Next Saturday. You two, no sex.”

“I have a one bedroom apartment and my bed is attached to the part Yevgeny sleeps in. How are we going to have sex?”

She finally looks at Ian, eyes raking over him. Mickey’s used to people looking at Ian with that same kind of intensity, but usually they want to fuck him, not kill him. “This one would find a way.” She clears her throat and steps back. “You hurt him again...”

“I’m not going to hurt Yevgeny,” Ian tells her.

She cuts him off. “I’m not talking about Yevgeny.” 

“I’m not going to hurt Mickey either.” Ian looks at her, his face serious. “I fucked up. I was sick and I didn’t want to face it. I’m still sick, but I’m managing it. And I’m going to be honest with Mickey if I feel like I’m getting out of control again, and I won’t be around Yevgeny unless I’m stable. I hurt a lot of people, and I don’t ever want to do that again.”

She nods tersely. “I’ll bring him by Saturday afternoon, pick him up first thing Sunday morning.”

“Okay,” Mickey nods and gives her the faintest hint of a smile. “I’ll be waiting.”

**

Mickey walks out to the kitchen and stops mid-yawn in the middle of the living room. When he’d gone to bed the night before, Ian had been settling on the couch to go to sleep, even though Mickey told him – like he’s told him every night that Yevgeny stays over – that he can go home to his apartment, his bed. Ian had ignored him – like every time Mickey told him to go home – and patted a Batman symbol shaped pillow before putting his head on it and closing his eyes.

This morning the couch cushions are on the floor, Ian’s sprawled half-on and half-off them. The blanket is twisted around his legs and Mickey’s not sure if Ian got where he is on purpose or if he just ended up that way in the middle of the night. 

Mickey goes into the kitchen and turns the coffee pot on then comes back out, straddling Ian’s thighs. He rubs Ian’s ass then leans in, kissing the small of his back along his spine. Ian hums quietly. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“You don’t like the anticipation?” He kisses Ian again, slightly lower. “You don’t feel like waiting through it through pancakes, a movie about cute and cuddly stuffed animal adventures, a kid’s meal, a pre-pick up bedtime story, and at least five separate hugs?” He kisses again, tugging the waistband of Ian’s sweats down and flicking his tongue at the top of the crack of Ian’s ass. “Hm?”

“Show you what I feel like,” Ian growls, reaching back for Mickey and trying to tug him onto the floor. Mickey relents slightly, stretching out on Ian’s back and kissing his neck. Ian sighs and relaxes under Mickey’s weight. “This is good, yeah?”

Mickey puts his palms on Ian’s shoulders and slides his hands down his arms until he’s completely stretched out over Ian. “Very good.” He kisses the side of Ian’s neck. “You want coffee?”

“Want to stay like this. Actually, no. I want to turn over and kiss you senseless before I roll us over and jerk you off while I fuck you nice and slow. Show you what anticipation really is.”

Mickey rolls his hips, grinding down against Ian. “Fuck.” He leans back in and kisses Ian’s neck again, catching skin in his teeth and sucking on it. Ian moans and thrusts back against the pressure of Mickey’s dick. 

“Christ, Mick.”

“Papa!”

Mickey stills and groans against Ian’s skin. He kisses the back of Ian’s neck again and levers himself up. “Be right there, monkey.”

“I’ll start breakfast.” Ian gets up and grabs Mickey before he can go anywhere, pulling him in and kissing him hard. “To be continued.”

Mickey pulls away with a smile then glances down. “Shit. Now I’m gonna have to explain boners to him.”

“That in itself should be enough to get rid of it.” Ian flicks Mickey in the ribs. Mickey grins and slaps his hand away before heading into the bedroom, trying to concentrate to anything but Ian. He thinks about how Svetlana would react if she found out Mickey gave Yevgeny his first lesson in sex education and that takes care of the problem of having to do it.

Yevgeny is bouncing on the bed, even with the look Mickey gives him. Mickey pushes the trundle bed in and then turns around. Yevgeny plants his hands on Mickey’s shoulders and jumps. Mickey catches his legs and spins around. Yevgeny laughs and then starts bouncing again. “Giddy-up.”

Mickey gallops out into the kitchen then leans over so Yevgeny can basically hurl himself at Ian. Ian catches him and swings him up into the air and then plops him in his chair at the table. Mickey’s grateful Ian helped raise three younger siblings, because otherwise Mickey thinks it’d all look more ridiculous than it probably does. And because seeing Ian with his younger siblings is probably the only reason Mickey even knows how to act like this.

“Okay, all we’ve got for breakfast is oatmeal, cold cereal, and broccoli.” Mickey watches Yevgeny’s eyes go wide as he looks at Ian in pure horror. He darts a glance at Mickey to see if Ian’s joking. It’s hard to keep a straight face, even harder when tears well in Yevgeny’s eyes. “Ooooooor. Wait! Wait! I think we might have waffles! Would you want those instead?”

“WAFFLES!”

Mickey flinches slightly when Yevgeny yells, but Ian just laughs and goes back to the waffle maker. Mickey follows him and grabs his coffee and takes a sip. He kisses Ian’s shoulder and grabs Yevgeny’s juice before sitting at the table. “What do you want to do today?”

“Eat popcorn.”

Mickey opens his mouth then closes it. He shouldn’t be surprised by answers like that, since he asked Yevgeny what he wanted to be when he grew up and was told he wanted to be a T. Rex. “You want to go to a movie?”

“No. Eat popcorn.”

“Okay.” He has no idea what to say to that at all. He glances over at Ian and knows he’s laughing, but his back is turned, so he doesn’t even bother with flipping him off. “You know what you are, right, Gallagher?”

Ian comes over with a plate covered in waffles and sets it down. “Your favorite?”

“I’m his favorite!” Yevgeny tries to spear a waffle with his fork, but can’t quite manage it. Ian does it for him and cuts it up. 

“You are. You’re right. Sorry.” 

“Syrup and forgive you.”

“Don’t drown them like last time,” Mickey says as he finishes pouring his own syrup. He’s an adult. he’s _allowed_ to drown his waffles. 

“Do as I say, not as I do?” Ian smiles at him and Mickey sticks out his tongue. 

“Because I’m the dad. That’s why.” He stabs a bite of waffle and puts it in his mouth, licking the syrup from his lips. 

Ian gives him a warning look and Mickey just smiles. “You’re going to end up with syrup all over your face.”

“Like father, like son.” Mickey eats another piece of waffle, and syrup drips to his chin. Before Mickey can do anything, Ian reaches out and swipes it away with his finger then sucks his finger into his mouth. Mickey narrows his eyes at him, silently promising retribution.

Ian takes a bite of his own breakfast and rolls his pills on the table next to his plate. “Going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Thought you weren’t due for another month.”

“Not.” Ian picks one of the pills and looks at it before swallowing it down with half a glass of water and then a drink of coffee. Ian makes a face, and Mickey knows how he feels. He stocks decaf for when Ian’s there, and it tastes like shit. “Just felt like I should go.”

“Ian sick?” Yevgeny pokes Ian with a syrupy finger. “Don’t feel sick.”

“Just a check-up, kiddo.”

Yevgeny’s eyes widen, much like they had earlier. “You get shot?”

“Nah. Your dad’s the only one who gets shot.”

Mickey kicks Ian’s ankle under the table. “Thanks to _you_.”

“Papa get shot?”

“Not for a while, monkey.” Mickey takes Ian’s hand under the table and squeezes. “How about we stay home today and watch movies? Order pizza?”

“Pizza!” Yevgeny lifts his hands, flinging a syrupy piece of waffle across the room. His eyes go wide and then he starts giggling. “Oops.”

Mickey gets up and goes to clean up the mess, taking a deep breathe. He’s glad that Ian’s going to the doctor, but the implications of it make him nervous. He knows Ian feels it based on the tightness of his shoulders. He tosses the piece of waffle away and comes back to the table. He rests his hand on the back of Ian’s neck, rubbing it with his thumb. “Get you cleaned up first, monkey. You look like you dumped the whole thing of syrup on your face.” He kisses the top of Ian’s head then grabs Yevgeny out of his chair, holding him at arm’s length. “Don’t go trying to get me all sticky.”

Ian snorts and Mickey looks over his shoulder with a warning glance. Ian holds up his hands in surrender before reaching for the last of his pills. Mickey takes Yevgeny in the bathroom and sits on the toilet while the kid pretends like he’s doing anything other than playing with Batman toys. Ian comes and stands in the door of the bathroom. “If you guys want to go out to a movie, I can go home.”

“Ian stay.” Yevgeny doesn’t even look at him, just smashes Batman into the water and sends up a splash. “Watch movie. Eat popcorn. Eat pizza.” He scrunches up his face. “Kiss Papa.”

“Right now?” 

“No! Ew kisses.”

“You don’t like kisses?” Mickey raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to remember that after your bedtime story next time.”

“Yevgeny kisses okay! Grown-up kisses ew.” Batman dives into the water again. “Ian stay.”

“Okay.” Ian pushes off the door and heads toward the bedroom where he’s got a stash of clothes in one of Mickey’s drawers. Forcing himself to look away from Ian’s ass, Mickey gets down on his knees and looks Yevgeny in the eye.

“Time to actually get clean.”

“Papa, noooooooo.”

“Yup.” Mickey grabs the washcloth and gets it wet, scrubbing at Yevgeny’s face despite his yowls of despair. He’s actually to the point of rinsing shampoo out of Yevgeny’s somehow syrupy hair when he hears Ian come back to the bathroom.

“Just imagine what your life might have been like if someone had done that to you when you were a kid.” Mickey doesn’t think, just flips Ian off. “You’re setting a horrible example, you know.”

“Go pick a movie, Gallagher, before I sic a wet, squirmy three-year-old on your ass.”

**

Ian looks tired when he gets to work the next day, and Mickey keeps his distance, though he does smile at him when he first sees him. Ian lifts a hand in a wave and then gets to work. Mickey waits until his shift is over to find Ian working the fork lift. He waits until the pallet is on the ground before catching Ian’s attention. Ian kills the motor. “What’s up?”

“You got a minute?”

“Yeah.” He swings out of the fork lift and catches the soda Mickey tosses to him. He taps the top of a twice and then opens it. He walks over to Mickey then falls in step with him as they head to Mickey’s office. Mickey doesn’t shut the door since that would just cause people to talk, and he leans against the wall opposite Ian. 

“How’d it go?”

“Still crazy.” Ian smiles, thought it’s tight. He takes off his hard hat and rakes his hand through his hair. “We’re going to up the lithium and see if that helps even me back out before I start to really swing. If it does, we’ll see if we need to adjust anything else to actually let me have emotions. The good news is that the anti-psychotics seem to be working well, so the dosage is probably okay on those for a while.”

“When do you go back?”

“Every two weeks now for a while, unless things get bad.” He takes a drink of his soda and shrugs. “So I’m going to stay at my place for a while.”

“When Yevgeny is over.”

“I was thinking-”

“Yeah, don’t.” Mickey shakes his head. “I know all about this, remember? It doesn’t scare me off. Weekends, yeah. We promised Svetlana. But during the week there’s no reason we can’t be together. Unless you don’t want to be.”

“I do.”

“So it’s settled.” Mickey shrugs, matter settled. “So give me your house key and I’ll start dinner. Be ready for a feast.”

“You’re going to stop and get KFC on the way home?”

“Nah. It’d be cold by the time you got there. I’ll run out and get it right before you get off work.” He grins as Ian digs his key out of his pocket. It’s on a detachable hook so it’s easy to get it off his key chain and hand it to Mickey. “Or maybe I’ll make something.”

“We had Spaghetti-Os two nights in a row. Unless you know how to make something else, go out and get food.” Ian smiles again, and it’s a little closer to normal. “I should just get you a key of your own. Make life a lot simpler.”

“Yeah?” Mickey can’t help his smile. “I’m not going to have to sit outside your door like a bum until you get home anymore?”

“ _One time_.”

“You didn’t see how the lady down the hall looked at me. Once was enough.” Mickey glances at the door and steps closer to Ian. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Yeah.”

Mickey rises up and presses a quick kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian looks shocked when Mickey pulls back and, if he’s honest with himself, Mickey’s just as surprised. “Get back to work, slacker.” He grabs his jacket off his chair and starts to walk out, but Ian grabs his wrist, stopping him. Mickey looks at him, head tilted in question. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ian shrugs and smiles. “I just love you.”

Mickey feels like the floor falls out from underneath him. “That...that’s not nothing, Ian.”

“No?” Ian smiles and something in it makes Mickey wonder how long Ian’s wanted to say it. He knows how long he’s waited to hear it. It’s not nothing. It’s everything. “No. You’re right. It’s not.”


End file.
